


The Debt Collector

by MyBlackWings



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Mando being a very good Mandalorian, Oral Sex, Sex, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, don’t touch the helmet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlackWings/pseuds/MyBlackWings
Summary: Prequel to season 1 of The Mandalorian. Mando takes a job escorting a mysterious patron across the galaxy. Debts come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes payback is bloody.  Language, violence, sex. I’ve taken some liberties with the way the Covert operates since I couldn’t find any specifics besides what I saw in the show and read on Star Wars wiki. No guarantees how often I’ll update but I’ll try my damnedest to make it often. At the moment I’m writing this on my phone.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No sex in chapter one. Chapter two coming in a few days hopefully. Been a while since I wrote smut so gimme a minute.

The Debt Collector

1.  
The helmet was heavy. Almost to the point of being unwieldy. The weight made him feel like he was over compensating his every move. The beskar weighing down on his shoulders making his neck sore, the breastplate on his chest tight and constricting, how was he supposed to run and fight in this? He wanted his Endurasteel armor back. He felt like a Foundling in his first training armor; learning how to move his body to use the beskar he would eventually be given as both protection and weapon. Except this time there were no Mandolrian guardians looking on and correcting his every move until it was perfect, until it was instinct.

The color and voice modulators were far beyond the capabilities of the Apprentice helmets he’d been wearing since choosing the Way. Everything around him was bright and detailed to the point of absurdity. He’d all but forgotten the intricate details of the Mandalorian art etched into the walls and alcoves. It had been fifteen years since he had seen them with his own eyes. Fifteen years since he had chosen to live his life following the Way. He sighed heavily, the modulator in his helmet making it sound much louder than he intended. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he adjusted the helmets settings again from the control panel on his wrist. 

“Don’t bother going for that ridiculous flamethrower Mando, you’re already dead.” Her voice echoed behind him, the cold metal of her blaster jammed under his chin. Right into the most vulnerable area where the Beskar didn’t protect him. He jerked his head up, mentally cursing himself for allowing her to sneak up on him. He hadn’t even heard her, maybe the sound amplifier was off as well as the speech modulator. 

“I don’t have time for your games, Nev.” His modulated voice boomed in the empty stone corridor.

“No need to yell at me. It’s just a bit of post- oath fun.” She retorted. “Probably the last we’ll ever be allowed to have.”

“Damn it,” he sighed again returning his attention to his helmets controls. Nev tucked her blaster back into its holster and stepped into his visors line of sight. Her Beskar shone bright fluorescent purple through his visors’ sensors. “How did you talk the Armorer into coloring your Beskar like that?” He asked adjusting more settings on his wrist console which only made everything worse.

“My armor is the same as yours except with a bit of Tour’ekian steel that I took as payment for my last apprentice job with Baz mixed in. The Armorer said it would give a lilac shimmer under certain light…” She stopped talking and clicked her tongue inside her helmet. “You messed with your helmets settings didn’t you Din?” 

“I just wanted to make some adjustments-“ She cut him off batting his hand away from his wrist console and stepping closer, her gloved hands holding him still as she breezed through the settings he had been struggling with for hours. “Try it now.” She ordered after a few moments. He looked around the halls he had grown up in, gone were the garish colors nearly blinding him. 

“It’s better.” He answered sullenly. His modulated voice back to normal. “The sound amplification was off also; that’s the only reason you were able to sneak up on me.” 

Nev’s helmeted head tilted and even though he hadn’t seen her face since their seventh solstice he could imagine her smile. He wondered briefly if her front teeth had ever grown back. “I adjusted the sound for you.” She answered. “ And I was able to sneak up on you because you lumber around like a blind Wookie.”

“The Beskar is heavier than I thought it would be.” He admitted quietly. 

She nodded, “My neck feels like a dewback stepped on it. I hope it will get easier eventually . Or maybe not. Maybe it’s why Sio’s always acting like a pissed off Nexu...” She trailed off as Heavy Armory Sio Tanin passed them in the corridor. The three Mandalorian nodded silently to each other.

“You shouldn’t use their names like that anymore. We are the same as them now. Equal.” Din chided. 

She waived a gloved hand dismissing his complaint. It wasn’t forbidden to use their given names just something else the more devout Mandalorians frowned on. “I overheard Baz say an Imperial Cruiser offloaded a few thousand Storm Troopers and Battle droids late last night near the outskirts.” She continued as Sio disappeared up the stairs leading to the surface.

“Are they here for us?”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t think so. There’s a Rebel encampment out that way...probably gone by now. Sio’s going to do some recon make sure the Empire doesn’t see a reason to stay once the Rebels are gone.” Din remained silent. He knew as well as she did what the repercussions of the Empire leaving a battalion of Droids and Troopers on Nevarro could be. The Covert might be forced to abandon their sanctuary lest they risk being found. The Tribe would stand and fight only if they were forced to but their numbers were small. The Empire’s continued reign of terror had brought them dozens of Foundlings but cost too many skilled warriors to mount a proper defense. Din Djarin and Nevrin Dax had been the only two Apprentices this solstice to have come of age and taken the Oath. 

“Baz has a job on Or’ahn, something to do with the Hutts and payment in Beskar. We need it to sponsor all these Foundlings…” She paused again as a trio of said Foundlings, wearing their new helmets, rushed past them. “He wants me to go with him...says the offer might be too good to be true as far as the Hutts are concerned.”

“I thought we weren’t dealing with them anymore.” Din replied. 

“The Armorer said we are honor bound to retrieve the Beskar from unworthy hands...And I am honor bound to Baz.”

“You’ve taken your Oath, we aren’t Foundlings or Apprentices anymore. You don’t have to take this job.” This job is dangerous is what he meant. Dangerous for experienced Bounty Hunters let alone a freshly promoted apprentice, Mandalorian or not.

Another tilt of her head, he guessed it was a frown under her visor this time. Nev raised her gloved hand towards him again but stopped before actually touching him this time. “That’s not all there is on Or’ahn.” She said quietly. “The Armorer got an encrypted message about another Covert out there...in need of a new mechanic.”

“Baz?” He asked already knowing the answer. She shook her head once more. “You won’t be returning.” He said with a quiet sigh. 

“This is the Way.” Nev replied. Din answered with the same. His modulated, emotionless voice somehow flatter and more strained then she was used to hearing come from her companion. “You almost sound as if you’ll miss your purii.” She used the Mando’a word for shadow, the nickname the guardians had used for them since they put on their first helmets.

She saw a slight twitch in his shoulder; a tiny break in his near perfected Mandalorian stoicism. She had been his shadow just as he had been hers since they arrived just days apart to the Covert. Found in opposite ends of the parsec. Both orphans of the Empire’s ruthless march towards complete domination. They had spent the last 15 years learning the Way, training to become one of the Galaxies most feared hunters, and finally taking their Oath together at dawn that very morning. With a few spoken vows they had been given their placement in the ranks of Mandalorian, a line of honor bound warriors going back thousands of years. They had been awarded their Beskar helmet and breastplate side by side in front of the Tribe. The rest of armor would come as they earned it.

“It will be...different not having our morning tea together.” He finally said as she dropped the gloved hand that had been hovering an inch from his arm. She let out a quick, modulated laugh. Her Mandalorian stoicism nowhere near as practiced as Din’s, much to the chagrin of the older, more seasoned members of the Tribe. ‘Morning Tea’ had become an unspoken ritual between the two of them, starting shortly after they looked each other in the eyes for the last time and chose to follow the Way and live the remainder of their lives behind a Mandalorian helmet. Every morning, training and Tribe business permitting, they would meet at the food replicator for a cup of Kashyyykian tea. Whomever got their first would have the late comers waiting. Wookiee’s might be giant, lumbering furballs but they made delicious tea. The pair would never actually drink their tea or take their meals together instead returning to their private quarters to drink in solitude as was the Way. It’s not that personal friendships were forbidden among the Mandalorian but they were discouraged. 

Nev scanned the corridor once more, looking for heat signatures of hiding, tattling Foundlings or roaming Mando’s. “Shekemir ni?” Follow me, she asked once she was sure there were no unwanted interlopers.

“Where?” 

They weren’t allowed on the surface without clearance from the Armorer or for Guild business. And neither one of them had their Guild clearance yet. Nez didn’t answer instead she turned and quickly strode down the corridor away from him. Her blaster boots barely made a sound even with the advanced and corrected sound amplification of his helmet. Din sighed again realizing he really did lumber around like a blind Wookiee compared to her nearly silent footfalls. Nev didn’t stop or even glance over her shoulder to check if he followed. Din stood watching as she disappeared around a hidden corner leaving nothing but the heat signatures of her boots behind. He squeezed his gloved hands, pondering his options to either return to the privacy of his quarters until summoned by the Armorer or follow Nez and find out what sort of trouble she had planned for them. 

He decided on the trouble, even if it meant another week cleaning the Covert’s vac tubes. He followed the traces of her footsteps finding himself further inside the depths of Covert then he had been in a long while; never seeing a reason to stray beyond his quarters, the food replicator or his assigned training areas. He caught up with her standing outside a closed door, her relief that he had chosen to follow evident in the way the tension left her shoulders as he strode down the empty corridor towards her. “What is this ?” He asked stopping beside her.

She waved her wrist comp next to the doors control panel and it slid open. “My quarters,” her modulated voice barely above a whisper as she stepped inside her room


	2. 2

2.  
This was not the trouble Din had been expecting so soon after their Oath. He stepped inside her private quarters and Nev let out a long nervous breath that escaped her hemet as a low hiss. She waived her wrist comp again and the door slid closed and locked. Din scanned her small room. The small lumpy futon on the floor, tattered hand bound books as well as an ancient clunky digi-reader, spare parts for a blaster she was rebuilding spread out in a corner. His visor settled on a delicate, kaleidoscopic flower sitting on her small desk. 

“That’s a Sas’kian crystal lily. It’s from my mothers home world.” Nev said from the opposite side of her small room. She had always walked the line between devout believer and heretic. Pushing herself to the absolute limits of training, working alongside Baz ,the Coverts master mechanic, until her fingers bled through her gloves, living and breathing the Way yet continuing to call him by his birth name and demand he use hers (at least in private) and keeping this small token of her life before the Mandalorians saved her. Not forbidden of course but discouraged. Din turned his visor away from the ever changing colors of the impossible crystal flower in time to see her waive her hand over the only dim light in her room. The effect was instantaneous, his visor immediately switching to night vision. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned. She remained silent. Her back facing him. He watched in shock and a touch of fear as she removed her helmet and placed it gently on the table beside her. Her hair tumbled free and fell in soft waves down her back, the true color impossible to tell through the inverted night vision of his visor. “What are you doing?” He demanded more forcefully this time.

“Please take your helmet off, Din.” She said quietly. Her voice was lite and soft without the emotionless robotic modulation of her helmet. 

“No. This is forbidden. No living thing may see our faces.” He turned away striding quickly back towards the door.

“By the Maker, Din!” Nev shouted before he could swipe out of her room. “Will you just...will you just stop being so Mandalorian for thirty seconds.” Din paused looking over his shoulder to see her still facing away from him. “Take your helmet off. Gadet’ye. Please. I won’t turn around until you say it’s ok. We aren’t going to break our Oath tonight or ever, Maker willing.”

He stood facing the door unsure, listening to her quick nervous breathing and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. He hooked his gloved thumbs under the chin of his helmet and lifted it off before he could talk himself out of this decision. He was plunged into darkness, the door in front of him swallowed up by the pitch black. He held one gloved hand in front of his face and saw nothing but the faintest blobby outline. Din swallowed thickly struggling to find his voice. “You can turn around.” He said turning around slowly trying not to bump into anything in the darkness. 

Nev smiled to herself his voice was so different without the modulator. Deep and raspy and she wanted to hear more of it. She could sense Din a few paces in front of her, silent and as nervous as she was. She pulled her gloves off then removed the rest of her armor and let it drop to the floor. She heard Din shuffle his feet nervously as she stepped out of her blaster boots and removed her jumpsuit leaving her in nothing but her simple underwear. She still hadn’t said anything and the silence was nearly as oppressive as the darkness. 

Din heard the soft slide of her bare feet on the stone floor coming towards him. Suddenly her hand was there, reaching out through the darkness blind and searching for him. Her fingers , soft and warm, found the stubble on his chin and she stepped closer. He could sense her there, feel the heat coming off her body, the scent of her hair and... she was short. So much shorter without the added height of her boots. Her hands cupped his face and she stepped up on her toes, her lips grazed his check before they found his. The kiss was soft and unsure, her boldness waivering as Din stood still as a Beskar statue, only his ragged breaths betraying him as a living thing. 

Her lips left his and she pulled back. “Din? Is this ok? Shit...shit. I’m sorry.” She stepped back flustered, muttering in Mando’a and Basic, and glad for the blinding darkness that hid the embarrassed flush she felt crawling along her skin.

His hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed her wrist pulling her toward him. She let out a surprised yelp as he crushed her against his armor, one arm wrapping tightly around her waist. He used his teeth to pull the glove off his free hand, letting the rough leather drop to the floor and tangling his now bare hand in her hair. He relished the way the soft, wavy texture felt against his skin before using his grip to tilt her head up. His lips weren’t nervous or unsure as he bent down finding her in the darkness. She moaned against him and he slid his tongue alongside hers savoring the taste of her. He groaned, low and deep in his chest causing the Beskar against her bare skin to vibrate. The small taste made him ravenous, opening up something inside of him. A deep yearning pit right at his core that he had tried all these years to fill with training and meditation, devotion to the Way. The same empty feeling she had; the hunger for the touch of another human that had finally become too much to bear once the Armorer had handed down her orders. 

He pulled away with a soft laugh and she stuttered flustered at the sudden change. “Wh-what?” She asked, rocking back on her heels. 

“You’re front teeth grew back,” he laughed again leaning towards her in the darkness.

“Gods, Din you’re such a Wookiee.” Her voice hitched, breathless as his lips trailed hot and wet and oh gracious Maker so deliciously around her jaw and down her neck. His teeth grazed the soft sensitive skin of her collarbone and her knees nearly buckled. 

“I want to feel all of you.” He growled against her ear making her shiver. “I want to taste all of you.” His lips continued their trail down her throat, across her chest leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was almost too much, the lack of sight making every other sensation surge into hyperspace. The way his rough, calloused hands squeezed her hips, his stubble scrapping so pleasantly across her skin and the heat of his lips as they latched onto the sensitive bud of her nipple. She melted, the only thing keeping her on her feet was her grip on the short hairs near the base of his neck and his strong hands pressed into the small of her back.

Her hands pulled at the cold metal pauldrons on his shoulders. “Take your armor off.” She begged, panting like they had just finished sparring in the arena. He flicked his tongue over the nipple he had so far neglected before standing up. She felt him tower over her and her fingers found the clips holding the Beskar on his chest in place. She dropped it to the ground at their feet where it was quickly met with his shoulder pauldrons. She pulled at the jumpsuit causing him to lurch forward in the darkness. 

“Wait…there’s a zipper,” Din laughed again. He’d laughed three times in the last five minutes which was more than she had heard in all their years of friendship combined. It was a surprising sound coming from someone normally so guarded. He pulled his jumpsuit off kicking his boots with it. Her hands were back, searching in the darkness until she found him. Her soft fingers traced the outline of his shoulders, down his chest, running them along his ribs until they settled on his bare hips. 

“Shekemir ni,” She said, leading him backwards in the dark until her feet found the corner of her futon. She lay down gently pulling him with her. He placed himself between her thighs, pushing her knees as far apart as could making her gasp when the hard length of his arousal rubbed against the wet spot in her underwear. Din rocked his hips making her shiver under him. His weight shifted and then his lips and hands were everywhere. The darkness made it impossible for Nev to guess where he would touch or kiss next. He felt his way blindly over every curve, trying to memorize the feel of her skin against his, each touch and taste helping to fill the void inside him. His teeth grazed along the curve of her hip and she sighed his name like a prayer.

He found the band of her panties and hooked his fingers under the soft fabric pulling it down until it slipped off her ankles. His weight all but disappeared from on top of her, he was nothing more than a shadow at the foot of her bed as he traced his hands back up the curves of her legs. Only pausing to kiss or nip some delicate part of her. The silence was back, not oppressive this time but filled with their quick aroused breaths or a gasp of surprise from Nev when Din discovered some new place to touch. Then his breath, hot and ragged was on her most sensitive area. The only place he hadn’t touched or bit or kissed yet. The place between her legs that had been throbbing with an unfulfilled need since she asked Din to follow her to her quarters.

“I’m going to taste you now,” His voice was ragged and strained. She knew he needed this as much as she did, the feel of something besides cold armor, To be connected to another human in the most intimate way. This would be the first and last time they ever felt each other, ever crossed the line between stoic companion and lover and she wanted to memorize every second of it. Let it be etched into her memory so she could recall it when the emptiness got to be too much, when losing herself tracking bounties or fixing a burned out combustor engine wasn’t enough. 

“Oh Maker help me,” Nev prayed quietly, her head sinking further into her pillow. Then his tongue was there finding the epicenter of her arousal. Her back arched off the bed, fingers pulling his hair as he growled deep and possessive. It was almost too much again. The feel of his tongue on her clit where nothing but her own fingers had ever ventured was setting every nerve on fire. And oh how he must have done this before because how could he be so good at it? She was coming undone, falling apart, fifteen years of Mandalorian training undone in mere minutes of having Din Djarin’s mouth on her pussy. She gasped as his tongue probed inside her, followed gently by one finger as he lifted himself to hover over her again. The intrusion of his finger was new but not unpleasant as he gently got her ready for what came next.

“Nev, are you ok?” He whispered above her. She could sense him looking down, searching in the darkness but the ability to speak was gone. She was afraid she was seconds away from shattering into a million pieces and leaving nothing but stardust behind. All she could do was nod and dig her fingers into his shoulders trying to ground herself. “You have to say it, Nev. I can’t see you.” He said leaning down running his lips along her jaw.

He brushed his thumb across her clit making her gasp. “Yes, gods Din, yes. Please. Please,” she wasn’t even entirely sure what she was begging for. But she wanted it, wanted it more than anything and she wanted Din to be the one to give to her. The feeling of being wound up and left dangling right at the edge of her climax was driving her mad. His hips rocked forward and this time it was the swollen head of his cock rubbing against her clit. Her back arched off the bed as she ground her hips up searching for more of that friction that caused her to see stars.

He adjusted his weight on one forearm, lining himself up with her slick entrance. Her breath caught as he rocked forward slowly pushing inside of her. “Say my name,” he growled trying to use all that practiced Mandalorian stoicism from fucking her straight into the floor.

“Din.” She whispered into the darkness. His lips were on her, sweet and tender and swallowing down the small gasp of unfamiliar pain as he slid further inside her until they really truly were connected. 

“Din, Din, Din,” fell from her lips as easily as the Oath she had recited at dawn. He knew this was the last time anyone would speak his name. This was the last time he would let anyone speak his name. Without Nevrin moaning it in the darkness his name was meaningless. 

There was no Covert, no Oath, no solitude waiting for them. There was only their mingled breathing, their names on each other’s lips, the sound of their skin finally touching. Then there was the toe curling,star-seeing, winding tension inside her growing and growing and growing every time Din moved his hips at a different speed or angle. Then she fell, shattering to a million pieces of stardust and crying out his name as she climaxed. He stayed inside her savoring the way she clenched around his cock as she came, the feeling of her hot wetness coating him as he thrust harder chasing his own finish. He pulled out at the last possible second finishing on her thigh with a satisfied groan. 

Din fell down beside her on the small futon and pulled her close, their tired ragged breathing the only sound in the otherwise now silent room. Nev lay her head on chest listening to his heart beat. Her hands roamed in the darkness tracing patterns on his muscles. They were both too afraid to speak knowing once they broke the silence this moment in time would be lost forever. Moving from present to dream in an instant. Nev spoke first knowing it would do neither of them any favors trying to delay the inevitable. “I have to get the Quadjumper ready. The fore-engine’s   
been sticking…” she said quietly.

“Send me your coordinates,” Din replied. “Once you get to the Covert on Or’ahn...I’ll join you.”

Nev sat up looking into the darkness where she thought his face might be. “You belong here, Din. The Tribe needs you.”

Then the dream was over and the present enveloped them as oppressive as their Beskar helmets. Din left her quarters with their creed intact. Nev sat in the darkness for the remainder of the night surrounded by his scent in her sheets and on her skin. She stirred only when Baz’ flat voice buzzed over her communicator instructing her to meet him at the ship.

Din stared at his reflection in the grey metal of his helmet. His features distorted by the angular cross of his visor. This was the Way. The path that had been laid before him and he had chosen freely all those years ago. Solitude. Service. Honor. Creed. His shadow. She was leaving at dawn being sent to a Covert of Mandalorians 1000 parsecs away. He slammed his helmet on and rushed out of his quarters. Cleaning vac tubes for an entire rotation would be worth if it for one last chance to stamp the ache inside of him down. The Tribe members he passed in the corridor said nothing as he rushed through the winding maze to the surface. 

The secret entrance to the Covert was in the middle of the bazaar, tucked behind stalls selling broken speeders and threadbare rugs. The inhabitants were used to seeing the armored warriors in their midst, the silent Beskar clad hunters becoming one in the eyes of the weary people of Nevarro. Din pushed through the crowd heading to the airstrip where the Tribe kept their ships. A group of laughing children ran past him playing Rebels versus Empire. “Hey kid,” his flat, robotic voice caught the attention of the yelling children causing the group to freeze at the site of the Mandalorian . “How much for the doll?” 

The fore- engine was giving her trouble. It made a strange rattling sound whenever the booster fired up. Nev wasn’t entirely sure how Baz kept the old relic together when he jumped into Hyperspace. She triple checked the bolts and fired up her plasma torch figuring a bit more welding at the connectors couldn’t hurt. Baz’s voice echoed through the com in her helmet, “Yo- sha- up.” Whatever he said broke up in static, all but drown out in the interference from her plasma torch. She sighed, cutting off the torch. “What in the deep abyss of Arys did you say?” She barked back in her com.

More static then Baz’s voice returned, “Did you get the engine fixed?”

“Yes I fixed the engine. Why don’t you fix your com?” She retorted.

“Nothing wrong with my com.” Baz returned after another screech of static. “Your shadows here. Get rid of ‘im we’re already late.”

“Maker give me strength,” Nev muttered to herself, turning the com settings in her helmet to private. She climbed out of the engine hatch and kicked her booster boots on. Hovering over the ship she saw Nevarro’s sun reflecting off Din’s approaching armor. She landed lightly in front of him and stared silently tilting her head questioningly. “Din, what are you doing here?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he handed her a small, dirty bundle. She unwrapped the bundle and ran her gloved fingers over the shaggy fur on the Wookiee doll. 

“Until our paths cross again, Nevrin Dax.” He said quietly. 

Behind her mask she felt the hot tears fall. “May the stars guide you, Din Djarin.” Baz started the thrusters and the Quadjumper roared to life. Nev kicked on her booster boots and hovered a few inches off the ground afraid if she didn’t pull herself away from him now she’d never be able to. “This is the Way,” Nev called down to him. Din stared up at her emotionless Beskar statue that he was and nodded once. Baz revved the Quadjumper’s engine in warning and Nev turned, holding the Wookie doll to her chest and flew up the ramp of the hovering ship. 

Din stood at the airfield for a long time, watching as the Quadjumper climbed the atmosphere then disappeared in a blue flash as it jumped to Hyperspace. “This is the way.” He whispered to the void.


	3. 3

3.  
The hostel walls were thin. The city outside never slept. It was never quiet. The sounds of speeder bikes, blaster fire and more than the occasional scream could be heard at all hours of the day and night. Yanta, the largest city on this planet of cities, was constantly submerged in a thick layer of polluted smog and violence. No one cared about anyone else's comings and goings when daily survival wasn’t guaranteed. It was the perfect place to be anonymous.

Eira stared up at the strange black stain on the ceiling above the bare mattress she had spent the night on. She’d wasted half the night imagining shapes in the stain as a child might with clouds.There were no clouds on Levine 4, at least not the fluffy white kind that her mother had told stories of. 

She sat up slowly, hissing from the pain in her ribs and peeled up her shirt to inspect the blue-purple bruises on her otherwise pale skin. Her hands were sore, the knuckles raw from where she’d beaten the k’pah out of the men who had been stupid enought to try and rob her the night before. A part of her enjoyed the way the knife had felt when it slipped between the first man's ribs and the satisfying crunch of the other man's throat under her boot. She had felt them trailing her for blocks before they got the nerve to show themselves. Most people ignored her, moved out of her way when she made the long trip from the ship dock to the storage facility, usually with a parcel floating behind her . She was just another faceless traveler, maybe a trader or a smuggler. But last night had been too tempting for the Womp Rats that believed her to be an easy target. The anti-grav cargo floating a few paces behind her too much of a temptation. 

“Give us the com-lock, luv, and we ain’t gonna hurt’cha.” He had stepped out of the shadows where Eira knew he was hiding. He probably thought he was terrifying. Eira thought he smelled like bantha stew and unwashed skin. 

“Don’t lie to her, Erk’e. We’re definitely gonna hurt her.” That was the entirety of the conversation. Eira hadn’t bothered with a response. The men were not going to get a warning or a wise-ass retort. She hadn’t realized until the fighting started how much she wanted it. She wanted to feel their bones break. She wanted to be hit even if the pain would bring tears to her eyes later. She just wanted to feel something.Something besides bone deep exhaustion and frustration at how much the latest morsel of information had cost her. The reason she had to take a shady transport back to Levine instead of her own ship. 

The only reason the Womp Rats had got a few good hits in was the puddle of something no longer identifiable that she had slipped in when one of her parcels decided to keep floating forward, knocking her over in the process. The feeling of that unknown mush creeping it’s way up her shirt and onto her skin had not been something she had wanted to feel. The man named Erk’e lunged at her with a knife while his more goals- oriented partner went straight for one of the anti-grav safes. The rest of the fight was a blur: blood, broken bones and then death. 

She left their bodies to grow cold in the alley and continued on her way to the storage facility. She normally preferred not to deal with droids if she could help it but in this instance they were the best the city had to offer. Droids couldn’t be bribed or threatened to give up locker combinations; they simply followed their programming. If the storage facility came under attack the protocol droids locked everything down tighter than a New Republic prison ship and flooded the building with poisonous gas. The contents of her parcel joined the rest in the secured storage unit. Maybe someday, hopefully soon, she would be done. All this blood and death would be worth something. She was closing in, she could feel it. The latest bit of information, a name and last known location of a weapons smuggler had cost her her ship. 

She could buy a ship, hell she could buy 5 ships with the spoils in front of her. But she never would. She wouldn’t trade any of it, not one piece if it meant it would fall into the hands of men like the ones that had taken everything from her. Eira ran her fingers through her silver hair and sighed, pushing away the useless thoughts. She had a job to do and gods be damned she would finish this. 

“Very hot, just the way you like it!” Kaeli the Yarkorka man that owned the kaffe cart across from the hostel hailed her. Eira gave the jovial long necked alien a strained smile. Apparently she was not as anonymous as she thought. She should not have kept coming back to the same Hostel but Kaeli made good kaffe. She traded him a few credits for the steaming hot cup. The kaffe was hot, dark and bitter- just the way she liked it. She thanked the man and moved into the flowing street traffic headed back towards the ship dock. She needed to find a ship before the trail went cold. 

“Have you seen this suspect?”   
“Have you seen this suspect?”  
“Have you seen this suspect?”

Three blue clad New Republic marshals jostled through the crowd each holding a holo-cube. As Eira got closer she caught a glimpse of the rotating hologram picture. It was a grainy blueish picture of a woman, probably taken in a dark alley by a security droid. ‘Suspect’ and ‘Murder’ blinked in red above and below the picture. 

“Shit,” She hissed under her breath recognizing the grainy picture of herself. Apparently the New Republic was making good on its ‘promises’ to clean up Levine 4. “Knew I should’ve dumped them in the fucking trash compactor.” She thought to herself pulling her hood over her hair and changing direction in the crowd.

***

He felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when the ship’s alarm notified him they were dropping out of hyperspace. He woke up momentarily disoriented, reaching his hand out half expecting someone to be laying on the small mattress next to him.

Not someone. Nevrin. Nev. His shadow. He could still hear his name on her lips, the feel of her skin as she trembled underneath him. The dreams were always the same: those few precious moments where the world dropped away and they let the feelings of desire they had been hiding behind training, fighting and creed take over. 

The dreams did nothing but remind him of the void that had all but engulfed him when the Armorer told him about the signals sent by Clan Varactyl. The encrypted pings sent by Baz Arak and Nevrin Dax’s were known morbidly as Kyr’am Naumiit or Death Signals. He had nodded once in understanding. There would be no mourning, no ceremony, that was not the Way. Nev was gone, lost to the universe and in that moment so was Din Djarin. 

Mando stared up at the grey wall above him and let out an exhausted sigh. It had been ten rotational years, hundreds of bounties, countless dark nights with too many nameless faceless women and he still dreamed of her. One nervous, inexperienced encounter that needled its way into his dreams more often than he would admit. Her voice echoed once more in his memory whispering his name. He hadn’t heard the name his parents gave him since that night. He let it go, let it disappear into his past as forgotten as his face. He was now known only as Mando, a fearless and ruthless Bounty Hunter for the Guild. An honor bound, devout member of the Tribe.

He turned the warning alarm off from his wrist-comp and the ship plunged back into silence. The silence was comforting; it meant none of his quarries had somehow escaped their carbonite prisons. The Mandalorian lay in his sleep cubicle for a few more minutes staring at the Beskar helmet resting on the shelf next to him. He could walk freely around if he wanted without the helmet hiding his face, every other living thing was currently frozen in suspended animation in the belly of his ship. But that wasn’t the Way. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair before pushing the helmet onto his head. He felt the ship slow and the sudden change in gravity as the Razor Crest entered the atmosphere of Nevarro. 

The ship landed in its usual space on the landing strip. Pit droids rolled out of the garage and Mando sighed in annoyance. It didn’t matter how many times he told Davenk, the Sullustan mechanic that ran the airfield, to keep his droids back he never listened. “Mando, welcome back! Would you like my droids to run a full diagnostic?” Davenk hailed him.

“External only, Davenk. No droids on my ship.” He replied striding past the mechanic. Mando strode quickly through the bustling city, the inhabitants of the crowded streets parting for the tall metal clad warrior. His cape whipped behind him in the faint breeze as he traced his usual route to the Cantina. He had a dozen bounties to turn into Greef Karga and honestly he needed the credits. Fuel was getting more expensive by the jump now that the New Republic was in the process of reclaiming refineries from the Imperial remnants still scattered throughout the system. The Cantina appeared before him, dank and grimy as all Cantinas seemed to be. He ignored the Protocol droid at the door and entered the bar. Karga was sitting as his usual table, the King of his own hive of scum and villainy. 

“Mando!” Karga hailed as he laid eyes on the Mandalorian. He dismissed the Mon Calamari in front of him with waive of the hand. “Been wondering when you would return. Whiskey?” He asked as Mando joined him at the table.

“No.” Mando replied tossing his bounty pucks on the table. 

“Buisness as usal then.” Karga said sipping his own whiskey before picking up the stack of pucks. “Bond jumper, bond jumper, murderer…” Karga insitied on reviewing each puck in turn even though he was the one that had given them to Mando in the first place. “Quite a haul, Mando. Looks like 13000 credits…” The Guild Bondsman snapped his fingers and one of his everpresent gaurds appeared with a credit chip in hand. 

Mando took the chip and tucked it into a pocket in jumpsuit. “I’ll take a look at the bounty pucks.”

“No pucks today. Sorry but you’re later than usual.” Karga replied taking another sip of whiskey. 

Mando sighed in annoyance again. “Got held up a New Republic checkpoint-”

Karga nodded unsympathectically. “Go take a hot shower, have a drink, take a woman to bed or hell make it two and come back in a few days. I’ll see what I can do for you then.” Mando stood from the table ignoring the pleasure girls that had slinked out of the shadows once he had credits in his pocket.

The sun was sinking below the horizon by the time Mando made it across town to the Coverts secret entrance. The sounds of playing Foundlings echoed in the stone corridors as he wound his way through the maze headed for his private quarters. He nodded at a few of the silent Mandalorian sentinels keeping watch over the children. He noticed a few children without helmets, newly rescued, their paths still not clear. A few of them might have family somewhere, most would not but they would be cared for by the Mandalorian that had rescued them until they chose to follow the Way or leave the Covert. 

He spent the next two days in solitude. Leaving his room only for food and once to meet with the Armorer. He spent a large portion of his credits replenishing his weapons and having her repair his flamethrower vambrace. On the third morning he returned to the Cantina, as early as he figured Karga would be available. He found the older man sitting at his usual table finishing his breakfast. Karga ignored him until he finished the last sip of his kaffe and a server droid cleared his empty plate away. Mando sat once Karga acknowledged his presence. “As you know General Organa and the New Republic have been poking their beurocratic noses in Guild buissness. They are...encouraging districts to use Republic Marshalls for bounties instead of us. This won’t last of course once the disticts realzie the Marshalls have no idea what they’re doing-”

“What the hell does that mean?” Mando replied gruffly.

“It means...I’ve only got one puck today.”

Mando gave an annoyed sigh. One puck wouldn’t be worth the fuel unless he could pick up more jobs on the way. “What is it?” Karga slid the puck across the table for Mando to inspect. He was silent for several long moments. The job, if you could call it that, was a transport. One person plus cargo, possibility of multiple stops, payment negotiable. “I’m not a Star Commuter.”

“If you don’t want it I’ve got Bosck waiting-” Karga said holding his gloved hand out for the puck. Mando stood from the table taking the puck with him. “Until next time, Mando.” Karga called as he strode past the Bosck standing at the bar. The reptillian Bounty Hunter hissed at him as walked past. Mando replied with a quick spark from his newly refilled flame thrower, the Bosck jumped back causing his steaming purple drink to spill and igniting the front of his flight suit. A protocol droid rushed forward muttering ‘Dear me oh dear me’ as the Bosck hisssed angrily trying to stamp out the flames. 

The job was waiting on Levine 4, a twelve hour hyperjump away. He saw no point waiting until tomorrow, his ship was fueled, he had credits, and his flamethrower was in top condtion. There was no reason to stay on Nevarro any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone stopping by to read this. Kudos and or comments are always welcome. I do a lot of editing, posting/ reposting as I fix and change things. I found a Star Wars translator and I’m  
> Having way to much fun with it.


End file.
